The Mother I Never Had, The Mother I Have
by DrNewton
Summary: Morticia helps Joel grieve the death of his mother.


Notes:

I sat down to write something non fan fiction for work. Instead I wrote this.

I love the Addams family, and nearly every version of the family. From the classic TV show, to the cartoons, to the movies, to the short lived, not so popular late 1990's, early 2000s live action TV show.

What I notice about Gomez and Morticia is how supportive and welcoming they are. They always welcome strangers to their homes and actually don't have a problem with other people's lifestyles. They only have a problem with those who don't accept them or try to con them.

They express (non sexual) physical affection towards their family. They are not afraid to hug those they love.  
I wanted to show these two points in a fic. As much I love Addams Family fan fiction, I often feel that fic's miss these key traits of the family.

Though the premises is what I had originally had in mind, a lot of what has been written came pouring out as I wrote. Many snippets of the conversation I had planned never made it on the page. They just didn't fit into the story anymore.

Yes, I am aware that story is dialog heavy. I am trying to fix that in my writing, but it is what it is.

Oh... one more note. I based the looks of 39 year old Joel on semi recent pictures of David Krumholtz who played Joel in the movie. Ok... I based him on the younger version of him. Recently David got really fat and now looks like Borat.

Work Text:

* * *

A car pulled up in front of the Addams mansion. The middle-aged man popped out of the driver's side and after taking out a small carry one luggage and his laptop bag, he sprinted to the front door. His hair was brown and curly. His dimples shined as he smiled, his nose slightly long, and his eye was shield by black glasses. He was average weight, a little bit fit for his age, even though he never entered a gym. He wore a dark purple dress shirt and black pants. His shiny leather black shoes had a sharp point that gave anyone he dared to kick a small stabbing. Ok, so the shoes weren't really that sharp, and he didn't want stab anyone, but they made him look damn cool, and most importantly, stylish.

He barged through the unlocked door, knowing he was welcomed. Only regular people and guests bothered to ring the doorbell. The main hall, which hosted a large staircase across from the main door, was empty. He peeked into the parlour, the secound largest room in the house after the dining room. No one was there. The man shrugged and dashed for upstairs, turned right, and down the hallway. He entered a bedroom where he dumped his luggage onto the empty bed. He open up his carry on, and took out a small black plastic bag.

"Perfect."

Poking his head out of the bedroom, he noticed no one. He started to wander down the hall, listening for anyone. There was mumbled voice of grandmama in the basement, chatting to herself… and the spirits. Right away he knew that the woman he was looking for was not down there. He quietly walked up to her bedroom and put his ear close to the door, but not close enough to touch it as he knew all too well that there were booby traps. Not a single noise. Then there was only another location she could be.

He sprinted to the stairs where slid down the handrail. He had done it so many times since he was a teenager. He knew how to hold on without falling despite it being polished daily. He landed on his feet, still carefully holding onto the plastic bag. He smirked to himself.

"Still got it, old buddy boy." He thought to himself.

"Mmmmmmmrph" came a loud, low tone voice. The man looked over, to his side was an extremely tall man with greenish grey skin. He looked a mix between the monster from Frankenstein and a zombie. He wore a butler suit as he held a pile of freshly washed black silk sheets. For a butler who generally seemed unable to show emotion, in his own way, seemed embarrassed to be caught with the bed sheets.

"Afternoon Lurch. Yes, I have arrived early. It's not your fault the bed hasn't been made yet. In fact, you don't have to make my bed. Just leave the sheets in the room, and I can make it myself tonight."

"MMMMMMMRPH", Lurch nodded his head in disagreement. The man sighed. "Alright, if you assist. But you know how I feel about being catered too."The two crossed paths to continue on their missions. After a few minutes of wandering through the house, the man finally made it to his destination.

He leaned against the open door frame as he watched the woman peacefully tend to her garden. She spoke no words nor hum no tune, but she cast a spell of somberness. She wore a body length thin slick black dress. Her long thick black hair which now hosted a few grey hairs laid on her back, as if they knew their job. To the rest of the world, she looked like a witch. They would see her and try to avoid her. They would chuck it up to her being eccentric, but wouldn't put it past her to do some strange black magic on them or worst, sleep with their husbands.

The thing was, she would. Not sleep with other people's husbands. No, she was devoted to only one man. He knew that. She would, however, cast some black magic on them. However, for this man, he saw a different woman.

"How was the funeral, Joel?" she asked, not turning to look behind her.

Joel smiled to himself. That wasn't witch magic, it was a mother's intuition. He walked into the garden. Mindlessly wondering around, poking at some of the non-poisonous plants while trying to hide the plastic bag from the woman's eyesight.

"Dramatic. Jewish funerals tend to be very…. emotional. Add my family complexities and well… it was a mess. Not in a good way either, even for an Addams."

"Why is that?" she asked, not looking up from her plants.

"Oh you know, everyone is unsure how to grieve correctly. Then there are the ones who are more worried about conducting the funeral correctly than grieving."

"Rightfully so."

"Yes. But. There is always a BUT. The fact that I even showed up brought on a whole new level of emotions. Mostly it was anger from those who actually loved my mother. My father, on the other hand, seemed grateful. The rest of the family saw this as an opportunity to "reconnect" with me and get on my good side. I gave out a fake number, the last thing I need is phone calls asking for money."

"You were welcome to give mine out." piped a voice from a small hunched men. He held some weapons and looked as if he had a productive day doing whatever it is that he did. He smiled at Joel. "You know I would give them a good fright. They will never dare ask to borrow a 5 dollar bill again!"

"Thank you fester. Truthfully, I thought about giving them yours or even Pugsleys number, but I would have felt bad."

"For?" Fester asked.

"For not asking permission first. In other words; for you."

The two laughed. Fester made his way back into the house, leaving Joel alone with the dark queen he admired. Joel walked around some more, noticing the black roses were in full bloom. The woman hated roses, and happily cut them off her rose bush, leaving only the thrones. Joel thought that maybe if she saw roses in a different way, she would grow to respect them. With the money he made from his tech turned phone app company, he hired a botanist to create a black rose.

At the time, Joel was prepared for her to reject the roses when he presented them to her. Instead, she just smiled and said: "how beautiful." She planted them in the garden and tended to them daily. Eight years on, and the bush had expanded across the edge of the garden walkway. This year especially, they bloomed with pride as their jet black petals slowly withered. The two stood in silence.

"How do you feel losing your mother?" she asked, not bothered that she had broken the silence.

"My gosh these roses are shivering up nicely this year." Joel replied quickly.

"You're changing the subject." she replied sternly.

Joel really wasn't sure how to reply. Part of him wanted to tell the truth, another part of him didn't want to risk making things awkward. A large part of him wasn't fully sure how he felt.

"Guilty" He admitted out loud, mainly to himself.

"For what?"

"I'm not sure."

The woman stared at Joel with sympathetic eyes but her face was seriousness. How she was able to do that, no one knew. She was not going to put up with Joel's game.

"We are Addams. We may have a unique lifestyle and we may have some powers beyond normal, but we are also humans. Even Addams are not immune to emotions."

Joel sheepishly look at her picking at some petals.

"You have been visiting our house for twenty six years now. We hosted you during the summer holidays. We invited you to all of our parties. You have spent nearly every Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas with us. You attended Gomez's funeral and supported us during our time of mourning. You saw firsthand how upset we were." She walked towards a plant near Joel. He didn't flinch nor step back, he knew she would never hurt him. "You are well aware that you are allowed to be sad for losing your mother."

"I don't think I do." He confessed. Joel looked at her but she continue on with her gardening.

"I actually feel relieved. Growing up, she was a monster. Never let me do anything I wanted."

"She wanted to protect you."

"I am not talking about my allergies. She had an idea in her head of the perfect Jewish boy before I was even born. She wanted a Jewish boy who was social, good looking, and popular among the community. She wanted me to grow up, study a "respectable career", become wealthy and marry a well to do Jewish woman. She wanted the community to be jealous of her. Instead she got this twig who struggled to breath without a puffer. Who would rather read or watch horror films instead of talking to anyone. Instead of spending my allowance on candy, or the local bowling alley, I spent it on collector cards of serial murderers and hung out at comic book shop with forty year old men."  
Joel paused. The woman did not speak.

"She would get frustrated at me. Normally she would lecture me and fuss over my "odd interests". She would cry, she would wonder out loud what she did to deserve me. On bad days she would yell at me. Not yell, scream. Yet she was also scared I would drop dead at any minute. She loathed me for being

"difficult". "

Joel paused again. Memories flashing back all at once.

"When the community made it clear that they disapproved of me, she signed me up for after-school programs at the local Jewish community center in hopes to normalise me. She never once asked me if I was interested in any of the after school programs. I would have gladly attended the science club or the creative writing class. I would have even taken the Torah reading club. No. She had other ideas. She would sign up for clubs where the children of popular families were in. She wanted me to socialise with people I couldn't find common ground with. This lead to me being bullied. I already dealt with it at school, but those were minor compared to the community center. Every Monday to Thursday, I would be marched over to the community center where there were no school rules to protect me. The moment I step through the door, the children would attack. They wouldn't just call me names like "nerd". No. They beat me up. Endlessly. They believed I didn't deserve to live. See this bump here, it was caused by a boy kicking me in the head. You would think going home would be a safe refuge, but no, my mother would say "Well maybe if you tried a little harder." In her mind, the beating would continue unless I stopped being weird. She BLAMED ME! It was either I became the son she wanted, or she were to hide me in shame.

Joel was breathing heavily. He tried to hold back tears but failed.

"Did you wanted to attend Camp Chippewa?" she asked coldly.

"No. I wanted to stay home and read. Camp Chippewa was my mothers' last resort. So much so, she took a risk with my allergies."

"What happen at the camp?"

"I met Wednesday."

"Exactly."

"Mrs. Addams. What are you implying."

"I am implying that through your mother's vanity, she allowed you to discover who you were. "

"Meeting Wednesday was a stroke of luck. If Debbie wasn't around to send Wednesday off, I would have been dead."

"Wednesday encouraged all the outcasts at that camp to be themselves. She pushed you all to stand up for yourself. She wanted you all to show the world who you were and be proud of it."

"She just wanted to burn Amanda."

"Yes. But she also wanted to fight against those like your mother. You saw this, and somewhere inside of you, you wanted that too. That is why you were the first to support her.

"Mrs. Addams, I had a crush on Wednesday, I was a teenage boy who wanted to be around a pretty girl. If she didn't like me back, she wouldn't have let me be her friend."

"But you had the will inside of you to fight. You could have easily refused to not partake in the Thanksgiving burning. In fact, Wednesday told me a good portion of it was your idea. "  
Joel smirked. He was proud of his ideas, and knocking his parents off the platform was well worth it.

"If Wednesday wasn't there, you would have befriended the other children who felt different. You would have created your own group of outcasts. You may not have caused a Thanksgiving play to remember, but you would, in your own way, protested. In return you would have gone home with that mentality, and still become the man you are now." Morticia continued to tend to her plants with contentment.

"You really think so?" Joel asked softly.

"I do."  
Joel smiled. Something about Mrs. Addams believing in him made his face glow. He really did have mother issues that he needed to resolve. He went back to picking rose petals.

"You're right, they really are withering beautifully this year." Morticia replied. She looked at Joel and smiled.  
There was a pause.

"I don't think I would have become the man I am now." Joel replied, not wanting to change the subject.

"How so?"

"Because what made me the man I am today is due to the support of your family."

"Oh Joel."

"Seriously. You all accepted me for who I am. None of you questioned me, and all of you encouraged and supported me. Whenever I shared my dreams, Gomez was ready to find a way to help me get started. Whenever I had a problem with a bully, Wednesday helped me deal with them. Grandmama would cook me meals with ingredients that actually helped my never-ending medical issues. Fester had me step out of my bubble by having me do new things like blow up an abandon building. Pugsley would tag along to any public event that I showed interest in. Pubert saw me as an older brother. And you… you listened."

Joel turned to Morticia and looked her in the eye. He wanted to be careful with his words, but he wanted to share what he saw in her.

"You are a woman who has endless love to provide. Though you mainly express it towards your family, you welcome everyone to this home; from misfits to normals. Even if don't understand them, as long as they accept you and your family, you accept them."  
Joel eyes were soft. "As for your family, you would destroy a city if it meant it brought safety and happiness to your loved ones. Most importantly, you are always ready to sit down and talk. You never rejected me when I needed you. You allowed me to discuss my problems and be outwardly honest. I hardly ever was scared to edit what I had to say. You always had and continue to have advice, but you always made sure to listen. Something my mother never did."  
Morticia smirked, and if she could, she would have blushed a little.

"Your dark humor is just a bonus."

"I like to think it's my key feature after my looks." She replied. They both laughed.

"Mrs. Addams, in the end, it isn't blood that makes a family, it's the ones who choose to love you. The Addams choose me. You BECAME my mother."

"I know." Morticia replied with warmth.

Joel sighed.

"I love you, Mrs. Addams. The day you die is the day I will cry over the lost of my mothers."  
Morticia nodded and motion for a hug. Joel wrapped his arms around, holding her as tight as possible, knowing that is how she liked it best. What the people don't know about the Addams family is, they were not shy of physical affectation. They hugged to express their love, and Joel was no expectation to that rule.  
Still hugging her, Joel spoke one last confession. "In the end, by not trying to accept my own mother, I failed you."  
Morticia let go.

"It's not too late. Tomorrow, call your father. You said he seemed grateful you attended."

"You're right. I will." Joel replied wiping some tears from his eyes. "I better go shower. I had a long weekend.

"Yes. Please. We will see you at dinner." Morticia motion Joel to the door. He stumbled his way back to the house.

"Oh, Joel, are you forgetting something?"

Joel stopped. He took a moment to think about what Morticia just said. Then he raised his hand which still held onto the black plastic bag. He walked over to

Morticia and smiled as he handed her the bag.

"I inherited something I thought you would love. Happy mother's day."

END


End file.
